On Ice
by LunaSoleil07
Summary: Songfic based on Chris Thile's "On Ice." SSa. Characters may seem a bit OOC. Situation unlikely to come up in regular season. Read and review. One-shot.


**On Ice**

I own neither ALIAS (JJ Abrams, that brilliant, _brilliant_ man does), nor this version of "On Ice," written, arranged, and performed by Chris Thile (Mad German Music/ASCAP).

Julian Lazarey (no matter what he changed his name to, he'd always be a Lazarey) absently studied the rogue agent he'd been sent here to meet. When he'd first seen her, he'd been startled.

_Just for a moment, the moment I met her, I lost my breath, but my lips whispered, "She is the one."_

After which, of course, the voice in his head scolded him, "This is a setup! You fell for a setup! She's on a mission! There's no way Bristow would ever go against her own agency!"

_Forgot who I was and who I was fooling, didn't remember she could be my first cue to run._

Then he remembered that he was due for a close scrape with death, and he approached Bristow. He tapped her shoulder, and she turned to face him. Just as their eyes locked, gunshots rang through the bar, shattering snifters, wine and shot glasses, and beer mugs.

"Get down!" she shouted, shoving Julian to the floor. He yanked her down with him, and their eyes lock a second time as they hit the floor.

"Sark," she murmured, a bit shocked.

"Bristow," he acknowledged, miming tipping a hat to her. Then he tugged his gun from its holster and stood up, returning gunfire. She pulled him down again, and he glared angrily at her. She ignored him and handed him another gun.

"You'll need two the way we're getting out."

Sark's wits returned again. "Excuse me? _We_? Don't tell me Agent Bristow the Younger is actually defecting?"

Sydney glared at him before sarcastically saying amidst the gunfire, "Fine then. I won't tell you. Just get up. Our way out is there." She indicated a red exit door that was suddenly blotted out by black clad agents.

Julian swallowed imperceptibly. "When we get out of here," he told her, "we will have a very serious sit**-**down."

She flashed him a sudden smile. "I've never been so glad to have a cocky bastard on my side."

"What?" he asked, trying to ignore the approaching agents and focus better on the rare smile he was getting from her.

"You said _when_. So I take it that that's a promise?"

"Yes, sure," he said hurriedly, noticing that the do-gooders had surrounded them. "Come on." He pulled her up with him, barreling through the wall of agents around them. The spies parted in surprise before remembering that they were there to capture a rogue agent.

She led him out the door and through many serpentine alleys and side streets. This surprised him, since he hadn't thought that she would know the areas of the city that he would know.

_We moved so fast. Never thought twice. Mind came at last. Put us on ice._

They finally halted just a few blocks away from where the attack had happened, though Julian was sure they'd never be caught, not with all the detours and doubling back they'd done. He stiffened, realizing what he'd just done. _I've just kidnapped one of the best agents the United States government ever had,_ he thought numbly. _I… am going… to die. And I'm going to die at the hands of Vaughn, that wanker._

"You have to get out of here," Julian told Sydney urgently. "If you've truly defected, they'll kill you if they find you. And me, too," he added as an afterthought. "And if this is a trap, then I'm caught," he admitted.

Sydney nodded once. "I understand," she said. Then she leaned forward and **–** fleetingly **–** touched her lips to Julian's. "Thank you for your help." She began walking away, but she turned for just a moment. "If you hear of Julia Thorne resurfacing, I hope you'll remember her when you need a job done." Sydney had been gradually falling into her Thorne alias, the cocky flirtatious girl that had captured Simon's attention, if not his heart; this alias she'd begun assumingsince first catching Julian's gaze. This marked her first act as Julia. She blew him a kiss and walked out of his life, except for the occasional rose on his doorstep. It never had a card or note, but it was scented with her favorite perfume. There was never any question over who had sent it.

_We stayed in touch, but the touch I was wanting from her came from girls that scared me too little to love._

Julian walked away from yet another meaningless one**-**night**-**stand. He had left some money on the nightstand, as well as a small note stating that the woman would never again encounter him. He went straight home and sat at his desk, a well**-**worn notebook open before him. He wrote almost detachedly, pouring all of what he felt onto paper.

_So all of the thoughts I thought I might tell her turned into songs that until now she's never heard of._

Julian thought back to his father's lectures. He could almost hear the old man instructing him to never fall in love. "Only fools think of love as anything but a vice," Adrian Lazarey had once told him.

_I had been taught. Love is a vice. Took all these thoughts. And I put them on ice._

Julian shook his head, disgusted with himself. "The next thing you know," he said aloud, "everyone will be saying that you've gone soft. And then where will you be?"

A sarcastic voice broke into his thoughts. "They say that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity. Or did you know the whole time that I was here?"

Julian swore softly as he turned his chair and met Sydney's **–** _Julia's_ **–** eyes. "When did you get here, Thorne?" he asked, trying to inject contempt into his voice.

Julia got off of his bed and sauntered toward him. Julian's gaze swept up her long slim legs, over the short red dress she wore, finally landing firmly on her face. Thorne stood before him for a moment, letting him admire her, before she sat directly on his lap.

"I've _been_ here, Julian. My question for you is, where were you? Not that it really matters. You're here now," Julia added nonchalantly, studying him from beneath her eyelashes. She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders and cradled the back of his head with all the tenderness of a lover. She brushed her mouth across his tantalizingly before pulling back. "Now. How did that make you feel?" she asked in a mockery of Freud.

_The vice bends and ice tends to melt. One night she asked me how I felt. The next day I woke up, lying to myself: _**I feel fine, I feel fine, I… feel… fine!**

Julian awoke the next day, and was startled to feel a warm body next to him. The person rolled over, and he was looking at Sydney Bristow's **–** _Julia Thorne's,_ he reminded himself **–** sleeping face. He carefully brushed her hair away from her face, drinking in her image. She smiled in her sleep and moved closer to him, the smile fading as she again gave in to sleep.

"I love you," he told her, sure that he'd said it low enough that she couldn't hear him. She proved him wrong as her heavy**-**lidded eyes opened slowly, and a slow smile curved her mouth. She stretched a little, and Julian suddenly felt very aware of the fact that they were both naked. He fought the tide of emotions that threatened to engulf him whole, but he eventually gave in.

_Thank God you're here, I need you to hear this. So sick of my shit, I promise I'm through tempting fate._

"I need to tell you something," he finally managed.

Julia's smile widened. "I've already heard it, love. It was such a big event that the six o'clock news came here to film it."

_I know I'm in love now, you are what love is to me. Please tell me this isn't too little too late._

Julian shook his head stubbornly. "I need to tell you something," he repeated.

"Go ahead then," she answered, moving even closer to Julian, enjoying the feel of their skin touching.

He took a deep breath and whispered to her, "I know I'm in love now, you are what love is to me. Please tell me this isn't too little too late." (A/N: yes, he just quoted the lyrics)

Julia paused for a moment to think. Then she shrugged a shoulder. "I love you, too, Julian. And it's _never_ too late."

Julian smiled at her before he kissed her, leaving her breathless.

_Let's move fast. Making up time would be nice. I'm so sorry I put these things on ice._

**---** Author's Notes **---**

So? Liked it? Hated it? Come on, people, I need feedback! Yup, a bit confusing, granted, but suffice it to say that it was obviously A/U, inspired by the Chris Thile song "On Ice," which can be found on his second solo album (_Deceiver_) with Sugar Hill Records.


End file.
